


Bacon and Scotch

by taygeta



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taygeta/pseuds/taygeta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Britta and Jeff after Season 4 - "Intro to Knots"?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bacon and Scotch

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on Fanfiction.net - my first Community fanfic and Jeff/Britta fanfic.

He meant what he said, but he didn't mean it too.

Jeff Winger was a master manipulator of walking the fine line between fact and fiction. The truth about fact and fiction was that they were often the same thing; the difference between them was in which side you picked and could argue the best - the most.

Jeff Winger was the best. He was the most.

"What we did wasn't dating."

Jeff Winger was the best. He was the most. And when he saw the look in Britta's eyes from what he instantly said, he realized he just became the worst.

The moment seemed to pass with Abed's arrival with popcorn, by the events that transpired that got them to up their grade to a C+ and Jeff's promise that he would never skip out on his section again. (He intentionally did not mention that there weren't many other chances he might have to make this kind of screw up again. Besides Tom Waits had been worth it.) But when the party came to a close, when everyone, gathered with their presents, made it out the door, the moment returned head on.

In the chaotic round of holiday hug good-byes and pats on the back, by the time Jeff closed the door he realized something was amiss.

Britta had hugged everyone but him. She had stood to the side, hugging her Catastrophe calendar instead, waiting for Troy and Abed to gather their things.

At first he shrugged it off as an oversight, but after a glass of McCallan to round out the night, the moment sunk in a little deeper than he could ignore. He sat in the quiet of his living room and thought about Britta, hugging that stupid cat calendar. Suddenly the passing memory became more detailed, her fingers pressed against the edges, the cute cat eyes peeking out from under her arm.

It reminded him of nights spent in Britta's apartment, how one of her old cats used to stare at them sometimes - ruining the moment.

* * *

"Does he have to be in here?" His lips pulling away from hers. As if on cue, the cat meowed and leapt off the dresser. Jeff felt a little self-satisfied with his exit.

"Winger, if your eyes are on my cat, that means they're not on me."

"I don't make eye contact, remember?" he said, effectively making eye contact with her.

It was then that she chose to kiss him, peering into his eyes so that he could see every part of herself that she kept shielded away. He felt his "cool factor" slipping. He felt himself sinking into her gaze.

He pulled himself away, driving space between them and their eyes. He felt unsettled that he couldn't look away, "Why did you do that?"

She smiled widely, "Because it makes you so uncomfortable."

Uncomfortable wasn't exactly the word Jeff would use. Eye contact meant promises, meant futures, meant feelings. He didn't want to mean any of those things, even though there was this girl whose very presence seemed to dare him to.

"Well...stop."

"Fine," she said, pulling her eyes away from his. He watched as her eyes seemed to gaze on his lips. Somehow this did make him feel uncomfortable.

"What are you doing?"

"Not making eye contact," she said these words, slowly...very deliberately. Suddenly he wanted her eyes to return, her suggestively sexy gaze that he couldn't see with it.

"Why?"

She leaned in, "Because - "

But he never got to find out why or see those eyes. The stupid cat caused something to crash in the kitchen and Britta just had to make sure the cat was okay...

* * *

They didn't know it then, but it would be the last time they would be together. It would be the last night they'd be that close. He remembered it sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes he'd just inexplicably remember her eyes and how he let them stay meeting his...how he couldn't look away.

As if on cue, the one kitten that remained in his apartment started meowing. It was one of the Jeffries. Everyone thought it would be cute if he had one of them. He knew that it meant he'd have to keep it and rename it.

Looking at the glass of McCallan in his hand, he placed the glass down. He walked over to the kitten and sat it on his lap, "Scotch, shut up with your cuteness."

He meowed back.

After a moment Jeff said aloud, "You think she hates me?"

"Meow."

"Why am I talking to a cat?"

Jeff sighed and pulled out his phone and after a moment sent out the text he thought about sending an hour earlier.

> **JW** : Are you mad at me?
> 
> **BP** : What are you talking about?
> 
> **JW** : You know, the dating thing. (pause) And don't you say you don't know what I mean.
> 
> **BP** : Why should I be mad? You were just being your honest Jeff Winger self.

He sighed. "Honest". They knew each other too well that that would ever be used in text without some level of cynicism.

> **JW** : I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I mean, it was supposed to sound that way to Cornwallis.
> 
> **BP** : So are you retracting that? We did date?
> 
> **JW** : "Date" is such a high school word.
> 
> **BP** : Well maybe high school is more mature than you are.

Jeff wondered about the implications of that text. Despite the years that had passed, "High School" reminded him of Annie and Troy still. Even if they seemed more mature than the rest of them sometimes.

> **JW** : Maybe we shouldn't do this over text.

Ten minutes passed before he received her reply.

> **BP** : Tmrw. Usual place?

Jeff couldn't help but smile. He hadn't seen that text in a long time.

> **JW** : Usual time?
> 
> **BP** : See you tmrw.

* * *

It was 10am and Jeff sat in the booth at the Greasy Diner. The name wasn't at all ironic, it was actually a greasy diner. It was where they would go in those morning afters. Jeff would let himself forget his healthy diets and Britta would help herself to a bite of bacon from his plate. She was a vegetarian, and she told him this was the only time she would eat bacon. Jeff thought it was because it added to their sneaking around.

She slid into the booth and said, "I'm not eating bacon."

He smiled, "Does that mean I shouldn't order it?"

Her hair was particularly pretty today - blonde and curly. She was wearing a knit sweater with a cat on it. She met his smile as she grabbed a plastic menu from the side, "You can order whatever you want. I'm just letting you know that this isn't a situation where I'm eating bacon."

He wasn't sure why she was looking at the menu. He knew exactly what she would order: Potatoes with Soyrizo and toasted sourdough with strawberry jam.

He felt comforted when she actually did order it though. He followed with his usual order of Huevos Rancheros, a side of bacon, and two cups of coffee.

"I didn't want coffee," she lied.

"Yeah you did, you just forgot," he lied, knowing that the truth was he usually ordered it for the both of them.

"So..." she said. "You wanted to...not text."

"I wanted to..." he began. "Say I'm sorry - which never comes out right when you text it."

"What are you sorry for?" she asked. "Can you even answer that, Jeff?"

"I obviously hurt you. I saw the judgey face," he said. Then he found himself continuing, "And I didn't mean it to sound like you and me - whatever we were - weren't...you know...weren't..."

Britta's eyebrows raised expectantly, but Jeff found that he was at a lost for words. Fact and fiction were apparently alluding him when he needed them the most.

"Yes...?"

"I didn't mean to make 'us' sound as meaningless as it came out."

"Jeff, you could have just left it at me giving Cornwallis leverage. You didn't have to clarify that you and I didn't mean much to you. Whatever it is that it even meant."

The waitress came out with their food. He saw Britta reach out for the tiniest piece of bacon and chew nervously, not looking at him the entire time. Her arms laid across her chest. All that was missing was her Catastrophe calendar and he was reliving the distance of last night's good-byes.

"You're eating bacon."

"I know."

"Britta, look at me."

"I thought you don't like eye contact," she said, still looking at the wall.

Before he could help himself he said, "Sometimes I do."

Her eyes looked up from the wall and met his, and there it was: promises, futures, feelings - every part of herself that she kept shielded away.

"I don't have a label. Maybe me in my most narcissistic self wants to say that we exceed labels. We were complicated and not complicated at all. I know why we never dated - we spent the time trying to hide from our ever-so-much-more-complicated friends. And I know why we ended - the game was over and done. So it had to end. You were right, y'know."

"What was I right about?"

"We were both right. It was me. You deserved better than me and fooling around behind our friends' backs and closet rendezvous." Jeff looked around at the diner, "I think this might actually be the nicest place we actually went 'out' to. So that probably says everything too."

She laughed, "Sure know how to show a girl around town, Jeff Winger."

"And so I'm sorry. Not for what happened. Not that we happened. Just that I made it seem like it was nothing." He took a moment to make sure she realized he was making eye contact. "It could never be that."

A smile emerged on her face, "Thanks Winger." He saw her start to dig into her breakfast. "You're paying for this, by the way."

He took a sip of coffee. "I know." He pretended not to notice that she swiped a tiny piece of bacon from his plate.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they ate. These silences never lasted long, but they fell into place between their stories. It was just like old times and Jeff found that he missed these old times. But their exit, he knew, wouldn't be like past moments. She wouldn't squeeze his hand before she jetted back to her apartment. He wouldn't suddenly find himself kissing her good-bye, if he knew that they wouldn't likely see each other at school that day, never saying of course that that was why he was kissing her.

Britta broke the silence by beginning to talk about how her cat reacted when he met the new kitten, showing him cute pictures of them on her smartphone.

He laughed and enjoyed the present time with her and willed himself to try to focus on that while ignoring the lingering regret of the future moments that wouldn't happen next.

* * *


End file.
